Lois Lane Lets Herself Be Led Away

Trotting along as best she could in the caps on her hands and knees, Lois Lane let the two prostitutes lead her toward their boss. The longer the reporter stayed in the BDSM-gear, the more it hurt. The plug in her ass ached. The nose-hooks forcing her nostrils back painfully. Yet a part of Lois was glad.

At least it means I'm not insane, Lois thought as she struggled to keep up with the women in fishnet bodysuits and Green Lantern bodypaint. At least it means I'm not really a pig that thinks it is a woman.

The plush carpet didn't help much. The embarrassment whenever they ran across someone else. Lois Lane still felt naked, however much they saw her as just an animal. She wanted to hide her free-swinging breasts, shut her legs and press her ass against the wall to hide her bare pussy. Yet in the eyes of every whore and punter here, Lois was little more than a porker, obediently following her minders.

Down corridors they went, to an elevator. Lois stepped in and turned around, eliciting a remark about how smart she was. The reporter craned her neck to look at her...and hoped, desperately, that this wasn't going to be her life from now on.

I can't live as a pig, Lois thought to herself.

The elevator descended slowly...and when it opened, the reporter's brow furrowed. It was the office one might expect from some upscale bordello of another era. Oak paneling, a chandelier overhead; erotic oil portraits of devils seducing men and women hung on the walls. Marble sculptures of voluptuous naked forms that blended male and female, human and animal flanked a massive carved desk from another century, and behind it sat a woman.

She was facing away from the elevator as they came in, apparently watching the wall of television monitors behind the desk, each one showing a view of a different part of the club and the bordello. The chair swiveled as Lois and her guides stepped into the thickly carpeted office, and Lois gazed up as the figure in the chair gazed down, leaning over the desk.

The reporter blinked as she caught a glimpse of blood-red skin and dark horns curling back from a broad forehead over pure white eyes without pupil or iris...and then the image flickered, and she saw a regal-looking woman with dark eyes and Mediterranean skin...and then both at once, superimposed over one another.

"Miss Blaze, we, uh, found this pig wandering around upstairs...we figured maybe she belonged to one of the special clients?"

Blaze tilted her head. Her eyes met Lois Lane's...and her own brow furrowed for a moment.